The Bad Touch
by reine Seele
Summary: Freddy vs. Jason era, Jasoncentric. Running can only take a girl so far before she has to fight back. Though I'm not exactly sure this is what you would call fighting...more like wrestling...or just sex, y'know. COMPLETE,Language,MF,MC,Nec,Oneshot,PWP


**Author's Note: **Why yes, I _was_ dropped upon my head as a child. _No_, I did not ever recover. That is why I am writing Jason porn. This isn't the best I've written, but I'm proud of it all the same. Hope you enjoy my twisted brain-child.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jason Voorhees. Unfortunately.

* * *

_You've had enough _

_Of two-hand touch,_

_You want it rough_

_You're out of bounds…_

**- The Bad ****Touch (****The Bloodhound Gang)**

* * *

The brunette ran through the forest, dodging trees and bushes that would have otherwise slowed her down. She paused for a moment, listening for something and anxiously glancing about. Hearing nothing, the girl kept running. She was barefoot, having run out of the house in a panic.

_No time for clothes no time no time not enough time to get dressed call police save them save myself oh god help_…

She ran, her hair trailing after her like a banner. Her breasts bounced painfully, her thin bra doing nothing to support them, having been meant for show. Her short shorts were riding up her butt, making her uncomfortable. Her feet hurt and her lungs begged for a reprieve. How long had she been running? Four minutes? Five? Ten? Did it matter? It felt like an eternity to her.

She paused again, breathing and trying to listen for that sound that she couldn't hear, no matter how quiet everything was. Back at the house………he, it, whatever or whoever it was had been just as silent then: unnaturally quiet and unbelievably fast. She had only just managed to get away. It was too late for the others though, the people that had once been her friends. Now they were just bloody messes upon the floor, with their flesh split open and their bones sticking out everywhere…

_He knows he knows he knows where am I going where to go need help gotta find it find help where's my phone damn house back at house he's there bad bad this is bad_…

Running, running, she was always running. Something inside told her it was no good, that he would find her anyways and that she couldn't run from him because he was something not quite human and he didn't abide by the laws of reality. Something told her that she would die in the end, die like all the others who had their guts ripped open or their heads torn off of their necks. She didn't want to die, was afraid of death, and so she kept running, even though her legs were tired and her lungs burned.

She wasn't looking where she was going anymore, too concerned with what was behind her. She didn't see him step out from behind a thick oak, moving as silently and swiftly as the wind itself. She ran into a wall of muscle, the force of impact so jarring that she sat right down in the cold, wet dirt. The wind was completely knocked out of her lungs, adding to the soreness.

His mask regarded her sincerely, expressionless but foreboding all the same. He exuded death, used it as his toy, and bent it to his will. Death was to him as all of Creation is to God; a plaything that he had perfected with deadly skill, sharpening it with the experience of years and the patience of a born hunter. He loomed above her, tall and frightening and absolutely silent.

She would've screamed if she could've. But there was no air left in her lungs for even the tiniest squeak of disappointment. It seemed that all of her senses had completely deserted her. She had no strength in her limbs, so she couldn't move; her lungs were empty, so she was unable to scream; his presence had instilled within her a fear to end all fears, a fear so powerful that she fancied her heart to stop beating. He stared at her and her at him. Neither of them moved.

_Oh god oh god oh god no he's here he's here how is it possible death he's going to kill me I'm gonna die mommy help me death don't want it oh god I'm sorry don't take me not like this and here no dead dead they're all dead my fault my fault can't breathe_…

The machete was clenched in his large hand, the same weapon that had ended the lives of her friends. The wicked blade gleamed in the moonlight, menacing cold steel briefly warmed by the fresh blood that stained its length. The girl stared at the machete with wide eyes and baited breath, a passionate dislike of the object guiding every movement of her eyes.

Was she about to feel it slicing through her own flesh and bone? Would it be quick and painless or would she be subject to an agonizingly slow death? Both questions weighed heavily upon her mind as she quivered at the additional thought of dying at the hands of this…this…_monster_.

He was moving forward now, inch by inch; it took a hundred years for him to take his first step. She made a small sound, a mix between a whimper and a sob. He took another step, intent on closing the already short distance between them. Five feet……three……one…… She lowered her face into the dirt and leaves and closed her eyes in fear, unable to watch the approach of her demise.

Jason Voorhees stopped just shy of an inch from the girl's trembling form. He was huge, his massive frame in perfect contrast with that of the girl. His one good eye narrowed at the sight of her scant bra and panties, both articles leaving very little to the imagination. _Bad girl_, his mind told him. _Bad girl for not watching children!_ The machete was raised, slowly, like a guillotine after beheading another victim. It would fall like the guillotine as well: swift, sharp, and deadly.

The girl's lower lip began to tremble and her fingers dug into the dirt, but she did not attempt to get up and run away. Her tormentor cocked his head to the side in apparent confusion. The girl was fearful, this he understood, but she was not trying to escape. She had ceased her running the moment she had fallen and hadn't even tried to crawl away.

He was momentarily perplexed, convulsively loosening and tightening his grip on his weapon. Uncertainties were………distracting at best. However, they were also unacceptable and therefore in need of removal. Uncertainties made him think, and thinking for too long made his head hurt.

Jason raised his machete higher, preparing to bathe it in blood once more. His muscles moved and strained beneath his mottled skin and his one good eye dilated in concentration. The blade never fell. The girl, Jason's prey, still refused to move.

More uncertainties surfaced. Why hadn't she attempted to run away? Was she unconscious? That would be annoying. That meant that he would have to sit around and wait for her to wake up until he could kill her. It was so much more satisfying to see the fear in their eyes as he brutalized them. It was as exciting as the chase itself. Jason liked the chase. It was one of the only things left in the world that made his blood flow as it did when he was still alive.

The girl shivered; Jason noticed. The machete was lowered as he reached for his would-be victim, to touch her, push her, and see if she moved. If she didn't, then she had passed out and he would wait, albeit reluctantly. If she tried to run away he would grab her and throttle the life out of her. His fingers brushed her bare shoulder.

_Naked bad bad bad girl naked is bad never naked ever skin too much showing flashing white smooth pretty skin bad soft and bad bad bad_…

The girl flinched beneath his touch and she let out a long, mournful wail. Jason grew angry. They screamed, they always screamed! Why wasn't she screaming and running? He grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Large brown eyes met his stoic mask and the girl gave a loud, heaving gasp and shrank back.

His fury increased tenfold. She should be running. She wasn't hurt so why wasn't she running? His hand clenched into a fist before her face and she began to cry, soft, pitiful sounds that shook her entire body. She rolled back over onto her stomach and sobbed into the dirt, her voice barely reaching Jason's ears.

"_Please_…," came the first muffled plea, "_please don't hurt me!_"

Jason reared away from her, his posture menacing, like a dog with its hackles raised. He would've growled too, had he been angry enough. _Run!_ his mind screamed at the girl. _Run away!_ She did not.

He loomed over her, bending at the waist and knees to pick her up. He would hurt her and kill her anyways, despite the fact that she would not give him cause to chase her. It didn't matter to _him_. He would throw her against a tree and smash her body against rocks. He would impale her over and over again with his machete before drowning her. She would _suffer_.

His large hands grabbed at her, dragging her towards him and she began to scream. Finally, she began to scream. Her own hands, tiny and fragile compared to his, beat at his forearms and scratched him. Jason didn't pay any attention to the shallow wounds, but he did grab the girl's hands and held them above her head where she wouldn't be able to distract him anymore.

The machete, still held in his other hand, came close to point at her stomach, threatening her with death. She flinched away from the sharp slope of the blade, but fell silent. The fear of death was overpowering, enslaving anyone to its will.

Jason stared at her for a moment, contemplating where to begin. Should he drag her around by her hair or throw her into the tree? Which route would keep her alive the longest? _The rocks_, he concluded, and began to drag the girl towards the lake, where he knew several large boulders lay in wait.

She screamed again, kicking out in terror and throwing Jason off balance. For whatever reason there was, he stumbled and nearly fell, causing him to accidentally release the girl. She madly scrambled to her knees and rolled out of his way, just as his foot came crashing down where her leg had just been. Jason whirled on her, prepared to follow, to chase, but there was no need.

"_Please_…," she whispered again, "_Please don't kill me_…"

Anger and suspicion quickly arose as he watched her standing there before him, tears covering her face and dirt and mud marring the rest of her skin. His eyes fell upon her heaving chest and her barely visible nipples, strengthening his resolve to kill.

"I'll do anything!" she screamed as he took a step towards her. "_Anything_!"

He advanced, uncaring and dismissive of the girl's cries. She sobbed and began moving away from him, her bare feet stumbling and tripping over unseen branches and rocks as she backpedaled into a tree. He raised his fist, ready to smash her face into the bark, ready to end it all and be done with it.

Jason met with resistance just as he had been ready to crush her skull. Her knee had been raised just enough so that it was caught in between Jason's powerful legs. He looked down at the slender, pale limb trapped between his own thickset thighs, contemplating its existence and how best to remove it.

It was pushing, pushing against that place that had been forgotten for so long that its presence had ceased within his memory. He looked at the trembling flesh and tilted his head in curiosity. What was the purpose of such an action? Didn't she know that her pitifully weak leg could be ripped from her body in an instant?

He started to reach, started to grab it to tear it away when it moved. Back and forth it shifted, slowly, against his crotch. Jason's hand froze in mid-reach, his eye widening as she rubbed against his soft member. Nobody had ever dared to touch him there. Ever. It was………forbidden. It was _bad_.

_Bad touch bad touch bad bad bad bad don't want it why no can't have it make it stop now mommy quick before she gets angry bad bad I'm not bad mommy don't be angry bad girl bad bad naked bad girl_…

The girl was looking at him fearfully, a dim flicker of hope smoldering in her dark eyes as she pressed into him. Her pelvis aligned parallel to his own and she rocked against him, putting more pressure on his groin. Jason appeared to be comatose for all his reaction; he barely seemed to be breathing. It was as if all manner of activity had just been halted in order to figure out what was going on.

Within his mind, Jason was frantic with confusion. What was the girl doing? She was………touching him. She was touching him _there_ in _that_ area. It was not a bad touch………wasn't it? It did not hurt, therefore it could not harm. Jason raised his head to look at the girl's face. She was melded against the tree, clutching at its trunk in desperation as her eyes tried to avoid his criticizing gaze.

Her round cheeks were flushed and speckled with dried blood; she had been in the way when he had slashed one of her friends. Her long brown hair was matted with the copious fluid, which was quickly drying and causing her curls to stick together in clumps. The few freckles that were not hidden beneath blood stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin.

She was pretty, but she was also Bad. Her minimal attire screamed out "WHORE," a cry that Jason was only too happy to take up. She had been with her friends, drinking and smoking and doing that thing with the young man that had made Jason see red. That was the worst, that naked thing. His mother told him so, when she spoke inside his head.

"_See that, Jason_?" she would ask him. "_They do that because they're Bad, and they deserve to DIE_!"

His mother's voice had also spoken to him about the drugs and alcohol that they had consumed, reiterating how it made them Bad and how death was too good for them. Sometimes, even when they just touched each other his mother would cry out in outrage.

Remembering this, Jason became even more confused. The girl was touching him, and she was touching him in a way that just radiated Bad. Jason wanted to rip her head off, but two things were keeping him from doing just that: one, the absence of his mother's authoritative voice, and two, it felt kind of nice.

The pressure being created was not unpleasant, and it produced a warm feeling that spread throughout Jason's entire body. He almost felt alive. His fist had long since been lowered by his side, but now he raised it again to brace himself against the large oak as the girl continued to rock against him.

Tight-lipped and wide-eyed, she watched as her pursuer appeared to drift off into another realm, his eye eventually closing and a soft sound coming from beneath the mask. The girl stopped and began wriggling her way around him, hoping to escape. She might have, too, if her inaction hadn't stirred Jason from his self-induced daze. His head suddenly snapped to the side to look at her, the look in his eye horrible and cruel.

She whimpered and reached for the front of his pants as he regarded the slow, unsteady movement of her hand. The button was found easily enough and she popped it quickly, disgust making a fleeting pass over her features as a few inches of mottled and scarred skin was bared to her eyes. The zipper was pulled down slowly, only after much debate and a strange grunt from him urging her to continue.

"Oh my god…," she whispered to herself as she managed to pull the pants down to hang around his hips.

The sight of his semi erect cock immediately worried her; he was far too big, much larger than any of her previous boyfriends had ever been. She knew her limits, and she could honestly say that he was way past what she considered to be safe. However, as much as she hated to admit it………his size was alluring, in a dangerous kind of way. She was certain that, provided that he was careful, he could do great things for her with an impressive organ like that.

He was still looking at her, wondering what she was doing. He knew that she was going to do something Bad with him. He had watched couples together before and was well aware of the things that she could do to him. When her hand closed around his cock he blinked and shifted his weight around. He didn't know what to think of her touch; it made him nervous and uncomfortable, but it also felt very nice. He didn't know whether or not to kill her or let her be. Best be prepared, though; that was one of his mottos.

He looked for his machete and saw it lying on the ground several feet away. When had he dropped it? The only thing that prevented him from retrieving it was the girl's constant grip on him. He looked down at her arm, ready to snap it in two pieces, but the sight of her tiny hand covering his member was completely new to him, much more interesting than his discarded weapon or breaking her bones. His head tilted to the side, considering. The touch was strange, but good. His mother was silent. If this was bad, she would tell him so. Perhaps she did not care? If she did not care, then could that mean that it was allowed? After all, silence is just another type of approval.

_Not bad not bad good good let her want it need it have it yes can I have it not bad mommy is it bad feels good different warm and good and nice not hurt nice_…

_Let it happen_…, he told himself.Sighing to himself, Jason took a few moments to observe the girl's physical appearance. Not much for looks himself, he didn't appreciate her clear skin or her soft hair as much as he should have, but he did touch it lightly. His hands were rough and calloused, but they felt good. She whimpered a bit as he ran two large fingers down her bare shoulder, stopping at her elbow. He was quizzical and explorative, which was a good thing. She knew that he could really hurt her, if he so chose, but this shy examination of her body was nice. Then his hands found her bra and tore it off.

_Well,_ she thought, _so much for nice_.

His head tilted questioningly as her small breasts were bared. He had obviously never seen a pair this close before. Still frightened, but somewhat amused, the girl brought one of his large hands to her chest, encouraging him to touch. But the hand was immediately ripped away upon coming in contact with her soft, pliable skin; he didn't want that touch, not there. His harsh movement had scared her, and she trembled against the tree as he lowered his raised arm, and then gulped as he leaned forward, lowering his mask to the crook of her neck.

A strange sound then emitted from his chest, a low rumble that was akin to thunder. She didn't know how to interpret the noise. It was deep and foreboding, but it was also strangely comforting. It was………conflicted, for a lack of a better word. She swallowed audibly and hoped that the giant of a man hovering around her shoulder would not notice her anxiety. She didn't want to agitate him any further by causing him to suspect that _she_ was uncomfortable with the situation. _As if you hadn't done it all before,_ she scolded herself. The girl took a deep, shuddery breath and forced herself to relax; there was no sense in tensing up, considering what she was about to do. Her hand slid along his cock again, coaxing it to a full erection.

There came another deep noise from Jason, a cross between a pained moan and an excited gasp. His hips twitched as she ran a practiced thumb along his swollen shaft and for a moment she wondered if he would be able to control himself once engaged. She certainly hoped so. Sex with anyone as well endowed as he was required gentility and careful preparation; she didn't want to tear.

His hands were back on the tree and hers were slowly working his shirt up to expose more of his stomach. It was strange, how even though he had literally been through hell and back, his skin was still as soft as any human's. He had scars and uneven patches on his body where he had been burned, shot, stabbed, or maimed, so his skin had different textures, but he felt the same as any of her other boyfriend's. A little cooler, perhaps, and not giving off much heat, but the same. There didn't appear to be an ounce of fat anywhere on Jason as she examined his stomach and sides, choosing to ignore the mottled, bluish tint to his skin.

Her hands quickly found their way back to his cock, though, and she began stroking him with just the tips of her fingers, which she found he had quickly learned to enjoy. The skin here was different; same in color, but it felt like solid silk, if there was such a thing. Even after having been with multiple partners, she never could get over how something could be two opposites at the same time, so soft, but so _hard_. The thought made her wet.

Jason shifted again, obviously wanting for something but unable to convey his desires. He was agitated, excited, and impatient all rolled into one and he had no clue why. _Better get this over with_, the girl noted. She also noticed that for wanting to "get it over with," she was feeling pretty giddy about the idea of him inside of her. In fact, she was feeling pretty confident about it.

She brought one of her long, slender legs up to caress Jason's thigh, hooking it around his hip as high as she could. Since he was so tall, this next part was going to get a little tricky; she stood up on her tiptoes as far as she could and used her arms to hold on to Jason's shoulders as tightly as possible. Luckily enough, she wasn't too short herself, so it wasn't really much of a change in height. Jason, seeming to understand what it was that she was attempting to do, grabbed her waist with both hands and just lifted her off of the ground. Well, _that _worked.

The girl shivered and wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the brush of his manhood against her sex, still covered by her panties. She was about to think, _Damn, I forgot to take those off_, but by then Jason had already ripped them clean from her body, just like he had done to her bra. Her shriek was brought on more by surprise than anything else, but it was just what Jason needed to hear, emboldening him to pull her straight down onto his manhood.

_OH MY GOD OH MY GOD PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN oh my god I'm gonna die oh bad idea stupid me stupid why oh hurts why am I stupid oh didn't think couldn't think hurts ah no help stop him stop him not good AH oh my god_…

Letting Jason have control had not been a good idea, as his immense size immediately stretched her past her limits. She screamed out in pain as he seated her, clutching at his old tattered coat and bawling into his chest. Jason had paused, mystified by her sudden change in behavior. _Now_ she was screaming and crying? Wasn't this supposed to be a _good_ thing that her kind liked to experience? It made no sense.

What _did_ make sense to him was that this new feeling was most definitely worth any future conflictions he might be having. She was tight around him, the flesh unyielding and resistant but much better than her hands. His hands left her waist and slipped beneath her, cradling her thighs and rocking against her. The increased pressure ripped another sob from her throat and she hit his chest with a tiny fist, which he just looked at disinterestedly. He held her like that for a moment or two, just staring at her little hands and letting her use his coat as a giant handkerchief. Her trembling was not unnoticed, though it was neglected; Jason didn't know how to make her stop crying.

He stilled and her sobs soon ceased, though her face was red and wet from her tears. She was glad that he had opted to remain immobile; though still in pain, she no longer felt as if she would die from it. However, she also knew that she would not be able to withstand sex in this position, not with him. He wouldn't be able to keep himself from injuring her and then there would be no pleasure to be had for either of them; the girl knew from past experiences that it was so much better with cooperation from both sides. She knew that the only way that she could take this man was if one of them was lying down.

She somehow managed to convey to him that she wanted down, and he reluctantly moved to set her upon her feet. His grip was amusingly possessive as she pried his fingers from her waist, almost like some of her previous boyfriends had been. It sounded very egotistical of her to think so, but there was just something about her that drove the men wild. Some said it was her hair, some said it was her smile, and others were more truthful and told her that she had the hottest body they'd ever seen. This man she was with now seemed to be no different.

"It's no good like this," she told him as he stared down at her. "We need to move somewhere else."

Jason looked at her questioningly. Assuming that his curious stare was her cue to take charge, the girl quickly looked around, searching for a better alternative to standing up. Spotting a large, flat boulder not too far away (_How convenient,_ she thought), she made signs to Jason that they should migrate on over. When he made no signs of understanding, she took initiative and began sauntering towards the rock, purposely swaying her hips and hoping that it would engage Jason's attention. She heard his heavy footsteps as he began to follow her, but she didn't look back; fear was still present in her veins and she believed that if she saw him stalking after her she would start to flee, which wasn't a good idea, all things considered. He would only kill her.

The rock was a lot bigger close up than it had seemed from afar. It was large; about the size of a dinner table, set at a slant, and had a fairly smooth surface. For a moment she wondered how it had gotten so far inland; if it was a remnant from ancient glaciers, wouldn't it make more sense for it to rest closer to the lake itself? Had there even been glaciers at Crystal Lake? Did anyone know for sure? She wasn't going to complain, though.

_Better than standing,_ she told herself.

A sudden presence, Jason, came up behind her and tapped her thigh with the machete. The fact that he had taken the time to retrieve the weapon bode ill for the girl. Perhaps he had changed his mind and was going to kill her? If so, she wasn't going to turn around. She didn't want him to be the last thing she saw before she died.

The machete never moved from her thigh, however, and she began to relax. When she felt the touch of his dick against her lower back, she knew that he wasn't about to relieve her of her life, seeing as he still had use of her. He prodded her a little more insistently with the machete, forcing her to turn around to look at him. His gaze was constant and unwavering as she took hold of him once more, watching her every move. It was now very obvious that he _wanted_ her, wanted to _fuck_ her like she had never been fucked before.

She licked her lips in anticipation, wondering what it would be like to be _had_ by such an immense specimen of man. Fantastic and dangerous, she assumed. She could assume all she wanted, for she was about to find out anyways. Her light, teasing touch was roughly shoved away as Jason dropped his machete and forced her back onto the boulder, moving faster than she had seen him move before. She hadn't even had time to protest before he was on top of her, crushing her with his weight.

Her back came into contact with the quasi-smooth surface of the rock and she felt the scrapes on her back inflame with new pain, but she did not cry out. The enormous man above her commanded all of her attention as he roughly grabbed her hips and pulled her towards the edge of the rock, all the while making that strange, thunderous noise in his throat. She shivered at the sight of his cock neatly trapped between the apex of her thighs; it was almost impossible to believe that he had fit, but he had. She supposed that she was just becoming one of those "loose women" that her mother had always warned her about.

Jason stared down at her immobile form with fire and brimstone in his eye, torn between wanting her and wanting to kill her. He seemed to tremble as he stood in between her legs, an act that belied his murderous nature. He was………hesitant about this final part, for he knew where it would lead him. His mother had been silent up to this point; would she remain tight-lipped? Or would she condemn him for the very act that he had been told all his life was evil? It was a cause for contemplation, but Jason did not wish to think about it. He was impatient, which was a new one for him. He was usually very willing to wait and watch. It was what he did best.

The warm hand of the girl brought him out of his dilemma as she pushed up his tattered shirt and laid her palm against his stomach. Far from the washboard abs that she was used to, Jason's body was nonetheless rock hard with powerful muscles. She slid her touch to his chest, pushing the shirt further up and studying the odd pattern of scars that crisscrossed every inch of his skin. She was no expert, but every last one of them looked as if they had had deadly potential. If she was wrong about that, then at the very least they were some of the most hideous scars that she had ever seen.

This monstrous body hovering above her was just another shocking reminder of how much she had changed from the terrified girl of a few moments ago. With her previous boyfriends she had always made love the conventional way: missionary style in a bed with the lights turned down low. Now, as she threw her head back against the boulder and cried out as Jason forced her hands away from his body, she didn't even recognize herself. Here she was, out in the middle of a forest and being assaulted by a man she didn't even know, a man who had murdered her friends. She had never felt so liberated in her entire life, freed from every stipulation that normally governs an intimate relationship. She was out in the open, where anyone might see her, allowing an extraordinarily dangerous man to ravage her to his liking. The promise of uncontrolled and potentially violent sex excited her, enticed her inner deviant and _made_ her want him.

_Oh my god oh my god want him need him let him take me come on come on come on don't have time now need you now oh my god go go go do this do it over with come on come on!_

Despite her anticipation, she was unprepared for his sudden, bruising grip on her thighs as he pulled her to him, and even less prepared when he pushed into her. The thrust was hard and deep, with a backing of Jason's entire weight. He jarred her so terribly that she swore he was trying to push _through_ her. Her mouth opened in a gasp, but no actual sound made its way past her lips. It was uncomfortable, yes, but her silent gasp was one of pleasure, not pain. Jason filled her so completely, so fully that she could barely comprehend the situation that she was in or how she had gotten there. She could barely think of her own name at the moment.

As she lay there, contemplating, Jason was doing some quick thinking of his own. The only real word that he could come up with to accurately describe the feelings that he was experiencing was "hot." Everything about the tiny female beneath him was physically hot: her flush skin beneath his fingers, her breath on his shoulder when she tried to pull him closer, and the fiery look in her eyes when she stared at him with desire. He relished the heat that emanated off of her body, heat that he no longer had, none that was his own. He liked how warm and tight she was around his cock; yes, he especially liked that part.

When he had pushed into her for the first time, the sensation would've been enough to take his breath away if he had had any. As it was, he had paused to collect himself, for this was something completely and totally new, nothing like the pleasurable feelings he had felt beneath the tree. As if _those_ hadn't been distracting enough! His hands were braced against the rock as he leaned over the girl, and she scratched at his forearms, writhing and moaning, as if in pain. Something more basic, more primal within Jason was telling him otherwise, that the sounds she was making were signs of pleasure.

Need.

_Desire_.

His first thrust was agonizingly slow, forced, and completely lacking in any feeling. It was devoid of grace or rhythm, and its purpose was simply to test the limits of the small being that was pinned underneath his bulk. He knew that he was strong and larger than most others, and it would do no good to hurt the girl because of his own carelessness. After all, how many times had his own mother warned him to be gentle?

_Don't squeeze so tight, Jason, you'll break my fingers. Don't be so rough, dear, or you'll hurt the kitty. Do watch where you're going, Jason, I don't want you to run into anything. _

He knew about being careful, about being gentle; he just chose not to do it. Why should he? He remembered a rule that his mother had liked to repeat to him:

_Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Do you know what that means, Jason? It means to treat others how you would want them to treat you._

That hadn't worked out so well. He had never been accepted by his peers. The way he looked, walked, and acted caused them to make fun of him, mock him, and hurt him. His mother's protection only extended so far, and after that he was on his own. Gentle? Careful? Nice? Only in his mother's eyes, and now to the girl. She hadn't hurt him, only offended everything he stood for. Jason could forgive that.

He moved his hand, the one that rested closest to her oval-shaped face. She noticed his movement and flinched, but allowed him to touch her all the same. His fingers alighted on her brow, tracing her eyebrows and then her cheeks. She closed her eyes breathed deeply, forcing herself to relax. He wasn't trying to crush her skull, he was just………well, she wasn't too sure what it was that he was doing, but she figured that since he wasn't hurting her, it couldn't be a bad thing. His stroking continued, completely in tune with the placid thrusting of his hips.

He liked this girl. She wasn't very different from any of the others, but she was with him and that made her special. He liked the way she felt and the way that she looked at him when he was inside of her. He liked it when she arched her back and cried out in pleasure, and he _loved_ it when she wriggled around, trying to feel more of him than she already was. He closed his eye, heaving a long, heavy sigh of contentment, and just allowed himself to experience the feeling of _her_.

The girl looked up at him curiously, noticing how he had drifted off for a moment. She wondered what he was thinking about as she reached out to stroke the cool plastic of his mask; Jason stiffened and turned his head, but her fingers still grazed the surface of the faceplate, lingering on its unfeeling cheek. Her lips moved across the strange skin of his forearm as she raised herself off of the rock, wanting to placate him, make him feel like he was doing _right_.

Jason watched her, let his body _feel_ as she moved to touch him; her fingers moved back to his stomach, beneath his shirt to his skin. She stroked him lightly, boldly raising her hand until she had the shirt pulled up high enough to see his chest. He was thick and well muscled, discolored and scarred from years and years of disservice, but he had the body of a man and the needs of a man. Looking past the machete, past the blood and the screams of terror, she could see that he was only a man. _Only a man with the needs of a man,_ she repeated to herself. So far so good. Perhaps this would be enough to save her.

She lifted her legs to squeeze Jason's hips with her thighs, wanting him and wanting him to _know_ that she wanted him. She gripped his arms and arched her back, breaking out in a silky moan to capture his undivided attention. It worked, and Jason looked directly into her eyes. She could see ruthless intelligence in his gaze, something that made her question her recent decisions. Despite his hesitancies, he seemed to know what it was that he was doing, and though she enjoyed being with an "educated" man, she wasn't sure if his kind of experience was a good type.

_No time for regrets,_ she decided, adding on a quick, _Only a man with the needs of a man_ to bolster her confidence.

She stared back at him, trying her best to appear unafraid and totally ready for whatever he had to give her, but that façade went out the window at the first movement of his hips. He thrust into her very tenderly, never once breaking their gaze, even as a low keening noise broke out from deep in his throat. Apart from being immensely pleased at his gentility, the girl was floored by the look in his eyes, a look of absolute gratitude and relief. She couldn't remember a time during sex when the guy she was with had chanced to stare at anything else other than what his own cock was doing. Now that she thought about it, of course, she felt cheated out of something that had the chance to be incredibly intimate.

Such was the feeling that she currently had with the beast of a man that had her pinned to a rock in the Middle of Nowhere, USA. The absurdity and irony of the situation was not lost on her, though, and for a short moment she wondered if she had already gone crazy and this was just a hallucination. Then she wondered what she had just been thinking about, because the thrusting had not ceased and it felt _fantastic_, actually driving her thoughts away.

Jason's movements were lazy, as if he wasn't trying, but that was far from the truth. In reality, he was having a hard time staying upright; the way she was moving beneath him, sighing and tossing her head from side to side, and the way that she clenched around his member so tightly was double teaming Jason's senses, and he felt vastly overwhelmed. His breathing changed, becoming deeper and labored. His arms shook and he curled his hands into fists as he drew out another long, slow stroke. His mother's voice was still nonexistent, but even if she had chosen to become vocal at this point, it was doubtful that he would hear or care.

The girl was making soft noises, little moans punctuated by contented sighs and every now and then a passionate exclamation as he hit upon a sweet spot. She clutched at his forearms again, scratching futilely at his skin, though not in an attempt to escape. If anything she appeared to be trying to bring him closer. Jason, though not understanding the concept of physical closeness during the act of intercourse, understood the signals that his body was sending him, signals that moved him to lean forward and stretch his body against her own. The sensation of her naked breasts pressed against his chest, even through his old shirt, was not something that he would quickly forget. As dead as he was, Jason swore that he felt more alive than he had ever felt before. The girl arched her back, forcing more of her body to meet his in an undeniably firm contact. The shirt was pulled up again and this time when their skin touched, Jason's nerves just about exploded. He had no words to describe the soft, silky feel of her bare skin as it glided against his own, rubbing him in a way that seemed _so_ wrong, but couldn't be anything other than _right_.

His thrusts had slowed down to complete stillness as he held himself above her, barely supporting his own weight with his forearms. Her writhing was driving him mad, making him feel things that he had never felt before. He inclined his head to stare at her, as if the answers to all his questions were written on her forehead. She looked right back up at him, a fierceness in her eyes that he had failed to see before. _Pretty_, he thought. It wasn't something that he usually noticed. In fact, everything about this encounter was unusual. _Something_……_is wrong?_ he thought before the girl stuck her knee in his side, competing for his attention.

"Come on…," she hissed through her teeth, a pained look on her face. "Come on, harder!"

Jason tilted his head briefly before obeying, assuming his original position above her body and swaying his hips with a little more force than before. The girl's moans became more prevalent as the pressure within her built, and his cock seemed to stroke that certain spot within her _just so_. He probably didn't know it, but in her book he was _good_. The pain in her back from where the rock was scraping her dissolved in a pleasant numbness as the fire in her belly spread throughout her entire body, making her flush all over.

Jason grunted as he thrust into her, hands moving to grab her hips in what looked to be a painful grip, but she did not complain. Her cries were loud and numerous as she voiced her pleasure, something that she had used to be mindful of; no use in letting the rest of the world know what she was up to. But where was the rest of the world now? The trees were the only spectators to this unorthodox coupling, and trees could not talk. The only other people who might've stumbled upon them were dead by his hand, something that made her giddy, made her laugh out loud, even in the midst of her orgasm.

Jason noticed this and thought it strange, but he did not stop himself from pushing into her as deep as he could. Nothing was stopping him from slamming his hips against her body, from taking what he wanted. Not even as it all dissolved into nothing…

* * *

Jason woke up with a roar, straining against the chains that held him down. He was on his back on a hard floor, unable to move and confused. Where was he? What had happened? He couldn't think, couldn't remember, couldn't _breathe_. The air was hot, so hot and stifling and nothing like the cool, clean air from Crystal Lake. Again, where was he? 

"Mornin' sunshine," came a gravelly voice from his left. "Sleep well?"

Jason turned his head as far as he could, searching for the source of the voice. He hated it, wanted to make it stop, make it go away. But there was no one there, no one to keep from speaking. What was goin on? He wanted to go home; he hurt, and he didn't like the chains, which he couldn't break free from. Considering his size and strength, this fact certainly said something about the make of said chains. He had never been unable to break free from anything, especially these puny little metal links, with their weak structure. He flexed experimentally, but the metal did not give.

"Aawww, what's the matter?" asked the voice in mock sympathy. "Can't break free, ya stupid fuck?"

Jason thrashed about, wanting to be free of the chains and the nasty, gravelly tone. He couldn't see anyone; everywhere he looked there was nothing. Then, all of the sudden there were fingers, three of them, on his throat. Their touch was light and brief, but strangely sharp, unlike normal fingers. _Wait_, he realized, _not_ _fingers; knives_. The voice cackled loudly, the equivalent of a knee being slapped in mirth.

"Way ta go, Einstein! Have ya figured the rest out yet?"

No, he hadn't. There wasn't time to either, because the knife fingers were pressing harder, causing blood to flow. Jason remained perfectly still, willing the blades to stop putting pressure on his throat. For a moment it seemed as if the finger knives would withdraw; the pressure receded and the cold steel left his throat, but only to make its presence known elsewhere on his body. Jason jumped when the blades gingerly touched his cock, still erect and aching for release.

"I have ta hand it to ya, ya lucky sonovabitch," came that annoying, grinding voice, "ya got it where it counts………which _still _ain't sayin' much, considering what an ugly fucker you are."

The blades were uncomfortable, but they were nothing compared to the voice. It was burning, itching, screeching, the kind associated with someone who has a very bad sore throat. It pulled and yanked at Jason's mind, tugging him in forty different directions and never letting him settle. His mind was a whirl and his body in flames as the blades stroked and caressed his length. They weren't like the girl's hands, no, they were hurting and biting him, awful and Bad. His body shook uncontrollably and finally he let go, letting the blackness take him.

"Sweet dreams, bitch," the voice cooed.

* * *

Jason opened his eye. Trees greeted him, a cool, gentle breeze brushed past, and the night embraced him. He was home again, back at Crystal Lake, and he had never felt more relieved in his entire life. The voice was a recent memory, fresh and sharp, but unable to bother him any longer. The strange smells and sounds, the unbearable heat of that place were not even worth a second thought. Nothing can touch him, or hurt him anymore.

He was _home_.

But then, he heard a familiar sound, like a twig snapping, and he turned around to see the girl from before, the one with the hot skin and the Bad touch. She smiled at him, innocence on her lips but sin in her eyes. He couldn't see what she was trying to hide behind her back, but he knew that he wouldn't try to stop her. He liked her Bad touch. As she stepped forward he reached for her, and in the back of his mind, the voice with the finger knives began to laugh.

It laughed.

It laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed………

* * *

A/N: Yay or nay? Feedback is much appreciated. 


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